


Where You Rest

by GretchenSinister



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, but melancholy and introspective fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:34:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21929785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister
Summary: Original Prompt: "Jack and Pitch are both two very lonely spirits. When they get together, they are very private about their relationship. Of course they have sex, but a lot of their physical affection is based on simply cuddling and kissing with each other.Feel free to add anything else to do with hugging, like Pitch picking Jack up and carrying him, or Jack running his fingers through Pitch’s hair."The subject line on the kinkmeme called for fluff. I couldn’t manage pure fluff. But there’s cuddling, and a lot of thinking about how to love someone, especially when that someone is very strange.
Relationships: Jack Frost/Pitch Black
Comments: 5
Kudos: 65
Collections: Blackice Short Fics





	Where You Rest

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on 10/14/2016.

Jack had long ago given up on trying to seduce Pitch away from his work. It only made Pitch more stubborn about staying with it. No, Jack had had to come up with new, different tactics to get Pitch to relax. Luckily, he really enjoyed the best, surest method.  
  
Pitch was taking notes on the reactions to a well-known creepy short film when Jack approached him this time. He winced as he saw Pitch’s research methods. Reading the comments! Never a good idea.  
  
So he walked up, sat down next to Pitch—on a single chair, even! Well, Jack knew that Pitch’s lair thought he was good for Pitch, things like this were to be expected—leaned against him, and _yawned_.  
  
“Jack,” Pitch said softly, turning to him with the small, wondering smile he gave Jack every time he came back. “I thought you were here, but the lair plays tricks.”  
  
“And you were busy,” Jack said, and rested his head on Pitch’s shoulder.  
  
“I…just had a few things to finish up,” Pitch said. Jack nodded against his shoulder while he slid an arm around Pitch’s waist.  
  
“Mm-hm. All right,” Jack said. For a few moments, all he did was breathe deeply as he pressed against Pitch.  
  
“It seems like your day was exhausting.” One of Pitch’s arms crept around Jack’s shoulders, and he didn’t pick up his pen with his other hand. Good, Jack thought. He wasn’t going to be satisfied with just one arm.  
  
Jack nodded, and yawned again. “It’s all right, though,” he murmured. “Because I always know where I can go to rest.” Oh. Oh, wait. Was that too much? It was true, but the current moment was half a game, wasn’t it? He didn’t want to break the rules, he just wanted—he just wanted Pitch to feel like _he_ had a place to rest, without having to ask for it, without having to make himself so clearly vulnerable.  
  
But what was said couldn’t be unsaid. And Pitch had heard everything in what he had said. How could he not, when Jack’s anxiety about it had followed so closely behind his words.  
  
And then Pitch moved the arm around Jack’s shoulders slowly, carefully, as if he was trying not to scare Jack away. He’d never move that way around anyone else. Without turning to look at Jack, he brushed his cheek with the back of a long, delicate finger. “You know the truth,” Pitch said, almost inaudibly.  
  
Jack pulled Pitch yet more closely against himself. “Will you rest with me?” he asked.  
  
“Of course,” Pitch said, not much louder than before.  
  
They were silent as they made their way to Pitch’s bed, and only a few words passed between them before they got under the covers—Jack asking if it was all right if he undressed, and Pitch saying yes, but that he was going to remain clothed. This arrangement was something they had both gotten used to by now, and for this kind of evening it made perfect sense. Jack’s outdoor clothes weren’t for falling asleep in, but Pitch’s clothes were whisper-soft, and practically pajamas, anyway.  
  
They settled down facing each other, and Jack pulled Pitch into a hug that he readily returned. He sighed deeply against Jack, and gently rubbed his upper back.  
  
Jack smiled, and softly kissed him. “All right?” he asked.  
  
“As I can be,” Pitch answered. “I still feel like I don’t want to say much because it would be all too likely to ruin the moment. You’re here. I’m here. I want to let that be.”  
  
Jack nodded, and kissed him again. He was pretty sure he knew what that meant—that these were the only moments Pitch thought worth preserving. And he wanted to talk about that, sometime. How did the Pitch who held him so gently, who kissed him with such undivided attention, who only thought moments of peace worth saving—how did that Pitch relate to the Boogeyman? How did a being who could and would act to kill, who drew his power from fear, join in the same person as the quiet Pitch who leaned into his every touch?  
  
Jack worked his fingers into Pitch’s hair and carded through it, lightly scratching Pitch’s scalp as he did. Pitch shivered and moved to press his forehead against Jack’s shoulder. He knew how Pitch felt, not wanting to talk and ruin the moment, but if he wasn’t going to talk, he was still going to think.  
  
He and Pitch fit well together, surprisingly so, Jack had to admit. They fit together because they were lonely, but for their different reasons, they found it difficult to find, or easily fit into larger groups. They fit together because they regularly engaged with the human world; they couldn’t do anything they did if they abandoned it. They fit together in the now.  
  
Jack liked the now; he liked holding someone who could hold him in turn, who wanted to hold him. He liked the warmth of Pitch’s skin and the soft thickness of his hair.  
  
But Pitch’s skin didn’t feel like human skin, not exactly, and every time Jack thought he could guess how old Pitch was, he said something that forced Jack to adjust his guess upwards.  
  
He knew Pitch as intimately as one human could know another, but neither of them were human, really. They each brought more than one lifetime’s worth of memories and emotions with them.  
  
He had given Pitch a second chance and had fallen in love and now he still knew hardly anything about Pitch’s past. Who had Pitch been? How had he become who he was?  
  
These could be dangerous questions. Jack couldn’t deny that. He had forgiven Pitch much, even things that maybe he shouldn’t have, maybe that weren’t his to forgive. But he was still Jack Frost, and he was still a Guardian, and he couldn’t say that there weren’t things in Pitch’s past that his love could not overlook.  
  
But if he wanted to always be where Pitch could rest, and if he wanted always to be able to rest in Pitch, he would have to ask. For them to even have a chance, he would have to know.  
  
Just…not now. Now he would hold Pitch, warm and breathing, and gently touch his alien skin. He would fall asleep in his arms, and know that whatever else had happened or would happened, he would have no nightmares even when circled by the arms of their king.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments from Tumblr:
> 
> ask-a-pale-experiment reblogged this from gretchensinister and added:  
> LOVE IT!!: out of curiosity, which creepy short film exactly?
> 
> guardian-of-idfic reblogged this from gretchensinister and added:  
> aaaaaaaaahhhhhh I love this! It’s so sweet and makes my insides all gooey and omg. Do you have links to the rest of the chapters? Because I would love to read them but I am wicked lazy.
> 
> kazechama said: What do you mean, this isn’t pure fluff? A bit of angst only spices up the beautiful flavour of sugary fluff. It preps your taste buds for the sweet melting in your mouth. It’s perfect and all what I want to read at 4am when I can’t sleep


End file.
